Life and Death
by J.A.Kishu
Summary: Born with the ability to kill with a single touch. Sherlock Holmes is locked away like many of the children with dangerous gifts. After being freed by his brother Sherlock tries to keep as much space between him and other living things as possible. Cursed for life to live without a gentle touch. Part 1 of Death is their gift
1. Born with it

**Chapter 1: Born with it**

The first human being that touched him was lucky. It was the gynecologist that wore gloves during the process of giving birth.

The second one was a nurse; she didn't touch his skin ether, only the towel that was wrapped around him as she gave the baby to his mother.

The mother wasn't lucky at all, happy but not lucky. She caresses the baby's little head and gave him her breast for the first meal and the important step of creating a bond.

The doctor and nurse weren't really watching the exhausted mother with her child, it was a private moment. But as a sudden movement catches their eyes they turn to the woman and watching her die. The baby, no longer save in his mother´s hands rolls down into her lap and starts to cry. No one moved and everyone was silence except the crying baby.

The doctor recognized the sign of a supernatural death. The baby was one of only a few that was born with it. The rule of that scenario was clear. Don't rush and don't move until you know what had happen. Everyone follows this rule. Too many people have died because of rush decisions. The baby wasn't in danger, not imminently.

Most people who are gifted getting their abilities between the ages of 10 to 15. Still young but they had a normal childhood without it. The few, the unlucky ones that get it earlier have often problems to find their place in life. But even worse is the fate of children that were born with the gift, especially with a dangerous one. It´s unlikely they will survive in the cold environment of the facilities they will be taken to keep them save. Better keep the world save from them. Most times the children die because of the lack of affection, what they need or their abilities lose control. There are many ways for a child like that to die and never reach the adult age.

* * *

The world had brought out humans with abilities, special abilities. These had to fight for their place in the world. Imagen a world where you can create earthquakes with a step of your foot or break tsunamis before the waves hit land with your hands only. Imagen people, who can control your mind, heal deadly wounds or become nearly immortal.

Today people with a 'gift' are mostly welcome. Some use their ability for good things, others not at all. Some abilities are more useful other less. And then there are the people who use it for their own good. About the dangerous ones speaks no one, because they disappear most times. The gifted that bring illness and death, which hurt with touch, look or thoughts.

* * *

The baby wasn't touched anymore, the only thing that the mother did different then the doctor and the nurse was touching the baby´s skin. A special unite, responsible for children that were born with dangerous gifts was called and the baby was taken away. Not even the family had the right to say something against this rule. The mother´s body was also taken for an autopsy. To find out the exact reason of death and the gift the baby has.

The baby himself was transferred to a facility where they could test and research his gift. For further use, to contain the danger and to erase the life of that child if the gift was too dangerous, the last but also often used method.

* * *

The process was simple. First secure the child. This means no contact to other. Interaction with the child in safety clothes. Second step, exact define of the ability. That leads to experiment. But this happens mostly with the child older than a year.

For a year the child was always alone, only feed, bathed, changing nappies, clothed and put to bed. Without care, love, affection or any contact in any form. The child who had cried the first weeks had learned very fast that no one will care and no one come to hold it.

After the first year, the child still alive, apparently touching his own skin doesn't affect him. The first experiments were started. Little animals were let into the child´s room. The child kept away from nearly everything was sitting in the room and clapping happily into his hand while the rabbit, or mouse or hamster run around the room. Until the animals decided to check out the child. None of them survived the first touch. They all died and stayed to the feet of the child. The child´s ability had no effect on plants.

During the following years the child had learned that touching moving things leads to stop them. The child had no understanding for death but it understands that touching things breaks them. Like every adult that came in to take the cadaver away explained to the mostly silent child.

"If you touch a living thing it will die."

Soon the child begun to stay away from living things, from the adults too, until they explain that as long as they were the special suits he couldn't hurt them. Only touching skin was forbidden. With the following years it becomes clear that the growing child had a very bride mind. It learns fast and understands even faster. He learns that touching is bad. He wears gloves to prevent it and most times a hoody and long sleeves and long trousers. His bare skin touches nothing but the people who are responsible for him keep wearing the protection cloths.

The child starts to hate and fear his own gift, much to the joy of the people around him. He tries to keep away from everyone and feels bad for hurting little animals all that time ago.

The child´s family kept a close contact to the facility, or better the big brother tried with everything he had to get close to his brother but it was at least a wall of glass between them. The big brother also a gifted one tried to make his brother more confident about himself and the fact that he has a gift. The father never came. He blamed the child for the mother´s death. The name the child got after the birth was partly chosen by the mother before handed and the brother.

On the day after he became sixteen his brother Mycroft Holmes, age twenty-three, came to the facility and took his brother Sherlock with him. The brother who had done nothing else then to find out a way to get rid of his gift wasn't happy to go out in a world where he was a danger to everyone that came close. But Mycroft was now his legal guardian and had the ability to take him out of the lab, to a normal home. Sherlock, who had never left the building since the day he was born was fascinated and afraid at the same time about this new world that's wait for him.


	2. Don t touch meChapter 2

**Chapter 2: Don´t touch me**

His brother´s apartment is in the middle of London, apparently being the only 'normal' child in a family gives you a few or better most of the attention and worshipping a parent can have. But Sherlock didn't look out of the window to appreciate the view, or sits on the sofa that is covered with the softest cushions he would ever have touched.

To be precise Sherlock didn't touch anything in the room or in the car, the elevator or on the way to and from the car. His hands deep in his coat pockets his hoody over his head and a scarf around his neck that covers his mouth and nose were only his eyes left outside. He didn't want to feel the new world that is offered to him. He didn't want to touch the walls or the handle for the window. He doesn't want to be touched. His brother tries to come closer but with an angry shout 'Don't touch me' his brother stops where he stands and let Sherlock be. There wasn't much room to go further back and Mycroft didn't want to escalate the already delicate situation.

He explained to Sherlock that he was his legal guardian from now on and that Sherlock would live with him. He could get a private teacher if he wants or anything else that is missing in his life. The only thing Sherlock wants to know was where he would sleep. Mycroft showed him his new room and was thanked for by a quickly shut door and the sound of a key turning in its lock.

* * *

Sherlock didn't come out of the room, no one was allowed inside. The room had a separated bathroom but Mycroft wishes his brother would come out. He hadn't thought Sherlock would change one prison for another but he wouldn't break down the door. He told that Sherlock through the locked door but also that he would do so if Sherlock wouldn't start to eat. The meals that stand in front of the door were untouched since two days.

As Mycroft came across the door the next morning one of the meals was gone and only an empty plate was left. Smiling Mycroft takes it to the kitchen. Baby steps.

Mycroft left a few books behind next to the door and the breakfast hoping his brother would take them in his room to get at least a bit entertainment. The books and the breakfast gone the next time he crossed the hall.

Life goes on. Mycroft had to go back to work but never forget to place food and books or the newspaper next to his brother´s room. He always told him his plans for today. Told him about the food and what book he chooses for what reason. Sherlock rarely answered but it was a beginning.

Until Mycroft came home late one evening and discover an uneaten meal and not touched books. Knocking at Sherlock´s door he gets no answer but as he tried the handle the door opens an offers Mycroft an empty room.

Panic and regret eat him alive while he uses every force to find his brother but Sherlock was gone and wasn't found.

* * *

As his unit enters the abdomen building Lestrade feels the heavy air of mistrust, desperation and the sweet taste of lies. Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade was one of the gifted, like his colleague Sergeant Sally Donavan. Her ability was in many situations the far more useful. She could tell what kind of gift has a person. She needs to be close but far enough to be save. Many lives were saved by that ability. His own gift isn't really useful until it comes to interrogations. He is a living lie-detector. Very useful indeed but first they have to find a suspect first.

The building, rumor say the base of a drug cartel. The place where the drugs get to the street worker but all they found until now where the sad remains of people who had lost themselves in the poison they put into their body. Sally is in front of him checking the sleeping and unconscious people for powers. They had gifted people before when they feel trapped they didn't know what they are doing.

In one of the last rooms they found a lonely and very small figure on the floor. Even hidden under a blanked with gloves and a hoody Lestrade knows that this isn't a man, it is only a boy. Lestrade wants to run to him but is stopped very forcefully.

"Stop sir. He is dangerous." He looked at her with a lifted eye brown but stopped.

"What is it?" He asks and by the look in her eyes of pure fear he can think of a few possibilities.

"Sir, he … he is death. I mean he brings death, I don't know but his touch would kill you instantly." Oh, one of the few very unlucky. There was only one way someone finds out that he can kill with touch, by killing.

"Poor boy." Lestrade slowly walked over to the by, the evidence of heavy drug use are all around him. He takes on a pair of gloves as he kneed down next to the boy and lays a hand very carefully on the clothes covered shoulder.

"Hey kiddo, can you wake up for me and tell me your name." The last word was spoken as Lestrade´s hand touches the boy´s shoulder.

A sudden movement shots through the small body. "Don't touch me." He shouts and moves back further to the wall. His whole body was shaking out of fear and exhaustion.

"I know, I won´t touch your skin, alright. I will be careful. Look I wear gloves and I only touched you over your clothes." Lestrade talked in a low voice to not startle the boy more but while he was talking the boy starts to mumble to himself. He could hear words like 'hurt' and 'kill' and 'sorry'. Not the words you would like to hear out of the mouth of a teenager.

"No one will hurt you or get hurt, promise but we need to bring you to the hospital." Lestrade could feel the fear of hurting someone in the words but he needs the boy to come with him without a fight. Because with his abilities the fight would be a bit unfair and traumatic for the boy. The boy´s eyes begin to shut again, the drugs in his system are still working far too well.

"Here is the deal. I will come with you and tell everyone not to touch you. There will no one be in danger and you get the medical help you need. The doctors and nurses are trained for a situation like that. They know what to do. Like I know that I can´t touch your skin. Come on give me your hand." He reached out and the boy eyed the gloved hand, then his own that were covered with black leader gloves before he took the hand and let Lestrade help him on his feet. Lestrade notice that Donavan takes another step back from the boy. She could see things he didn't but she had warned him and that's is enough.

Holding the swearing boy out of the building to the waiting ambulance wasn't as easy as Lestrade had thought. With every step the boy let more of his weight fall on Lestrade until he was lifting the not really heavy boy out of the door and carrying him to the waiting paramedic.

Informing them was the first he did. Living in a dangerous world had made the people carful especially with the ones own a dangerous power. But both work professional around Sherlock, after wearing protection suits that covered their whole body. As hurt as you could feel for people to bring a wall of fabric between you and them, Lestrade guessed Sherlock was thankful for that. No one likes to kill another person by accident. You didn't choose the power you get.

* * *

Sherlock´s first impression of his surrounding was the smell of disinfection, hospital smell. He had always a strong sense of smell and he hated the one of hospitals. The laboratory he used to live in had a smell close to it. Not so much sickness but the smell of preventing and fear. He couldn't remember how he ended up in a hospital but the coming and going of strangers by his room only convinced him that he was right about his whereabouts. He didn't react as someone touched his arm. Simple because he felt the fabric of hospital clothes and the heard the sound of plastic from a protection suit. He was used to be around people with these kinds of suits to protect themselves from him and his curse.

As the person, most likely a nurse left again he heard something else. Someone to be precise. It was the steady sound of turning pages in a report. The soft noise a piece of paper does if touched and changed to the next one.

He opens his eyes, the blurry shadow dissolves and he sees a man sitting in a chair close to his bed, not his brother and to Sherlock shock not wearing anything to protect him from his power. Looking closer he recognized that man; it was the police officer that talked to him in the old building he had hidden.

"So you are awake." The soft voice from before and out of his dreams spoke to him again. He like it and wasn't sure why. Sherlock preferred to stay silence until he knows what the police officer want and why he is waiting in his room in the first place.

"Can I call someone for you or would you tell me your name?" Mycroft wasn't informed jet, good.

"Good let start again. Hi, my name is Greg Lestrade. I am one of the police officer that found you at the scene of a crime with a massive overdose of god know what. You were lucky the hospital was close and the paramedic kept you alive long enough." He sounded a bit harsh but most people do that when they think you waste your life.

As Sherlock didn't answer and continued to stare at him, Lestrade returned to his case file. The reason for his visit at the building where he had found the boy was simple. He was looking for the man who had killed fifteen year old Jason McCarthy. The boy died at a drug overdose, the same the kid in front of him could have died. Someone was selling dangerous drugs to children and Lestrade would do everything to find that person. The problem is, no one talked. Not the dealer, the buyer or the so called witness in the neighborhood. There was no clue to follow to find out who sold that rubbish.

Deep in his thoughts Lestrade didn't notice the boy´s attention for the file. Didn't see him read the comments from interviews or the tox- report and the forensic evidence.

Sherlock know it was dangerous to stay at a place where people could touch him accidently but the only place where he could hide was his brothers flat. He could go back it would be so easy to just call him. Watching Lestrade by puzzling over the file Sherlock just starts to talk. It was a long time ago that he had talked to someone.

"Do you want the solution for that case or is it an old one and you just reading it for fun." Sherlock had no idea how to talk properly to another person who wasn't one of his doctors but he wanted to know the answer or give the man who had saved him something back.

"What do you mean by 'solution'? Don't tell me you can solve the case only by reading a few notes." Lestrade looked at him suspicious.

"Yes of course I could but I am also a customer and a witness to your so called case. I know where you can find the person behind the drug." Sherlock was confident about the origin of the drug, he saw the kitchen where it was made and he had no problem to show it a police officer.

Sherlock told Lestrade everything he knows, all he could get out of the file, what he saw and tasted himself. He just talked to the guy who had saved him, knows about his powers and wasn't afraid about it.

"Thank you that should help us..." Lestrade stopped, because he still didn't know the boy´s name.

"Sherlock Holmes. Could you call my brother? I think I want to go home again." He misses him a bit. And he needs to get away from here. It was saver in his brother´s house then in a hospital where everywhere are people who could touch him.

While Lestrade called Sherlock´s brother or better his assistance he thought about the bright young man. Most of the things he had told him came out of the files. Only the few notes that were visible the boy had solved a crime without problem. Maybe they could help each other.


	3. A danger for others and himself

**Chapter 3: A danger for others and himself**

The call that told him that Sherlock was in a hospital got Mycroft mixed feelings. He was happy that he was found but also worried why he had run away and what had happen that he ended up in hospital.

As he arrived at the hospital he found a nearly dressed Sherlock, wearing gloves but only in shirt and trousers. The hoody lays on the bed ready to be taken. His brother looked thin and had to pale skin. With him was a man, police, Mycroft could tell, who wasn't wearing any kind of protection against his brother. He would like to hug his brother but knows Sherlock would never allow it.

"Hello Sherlock, glad you are okay." Sherlock nods into his direction but nothing more than that he hurried to get dressed or better his skin covered. Turning to the policeman Mycroft continued. "You must be the one who called me. Thank you for helping my brother."

"No need to thank me. He helped me out with a case and why shouldn't I help him?" He looked questioning at Mycroft. "No reason."

Sherlock was dressed and ready to leave, followed by Mycroft who bit a quick 'good bye' he walked his brother out of the hospital using the stairs to not being trapped in the elevator and keeping everyone on arm's length.

Sherlock didn't lock his door anymore but he didn't leave the flat ether. He stayed most time of the day in his room with books and sometimes a cold case from Lestrade. The police man was the only visitor Sherlock let in. His brother must have called him as boredom hit him and the books didn't help him anymore.

Lestrade keeps his distance, not because he wants to but for Sherlock´s sake who was afraid of any living being coming close. Over months the visits with cases increase. Sherlock got more confident around him and his brother. With all the clothes he wears inside and the gloves there was not really a risk. As Lestrade started to bring him to crime scenes, of course Sherlock was by this time legal an adult Sherlock´s understanding of people grows. He could predict how they would react and what he had to do to keep them on distance.

Only Lestrade and Sally Donovan knew about his ability. Sherlock wanted to tell everyone but Lestrade stopped him. But there are other ways to make them stay away. Telling everyone their secrets by deducing them was one way. Sherlock had to find a middle way between making them hate him and angry enough to punch him. It worked most of the times.

But with his new freedom, walking around London, alone or in company of Lestrade Sherlock was always aware that he was a danger for everyone around him but it doesn't mean he could live his life if he is careful. Sadly being carful doesn't help in any situation.

It was a very warm summer day and even the people of London start to wear short sleeves the get a bit of the rare sun on their skin. Not Sherlock, wearing his usually long sleeve suite and gloves but he let the coat and scarf at home. There were rumors to why he never takes them off. Beginning with the theory that he is afraid of bacteria to him being some kind of pyromaniac and having burn marks all over his hands.

The crime scene was in one of the busiest underground station, Sherlock had never visit before but the police tape build useful wall between him and them. The police couldn't get the people away and was looking at the same time for witness. A woman, around forty was stabbed in the side and no one had seen anything. Like always. There were too many people around her so the camera wasn't useful ether. Lestrade had called him for help and Sherlock was led by him down the stairs. Lestrade kept the people away from him. Sherlock was nervous but he trusted Lestrade to keep them save.

Sherlock looked around; many people stare at him, the body and the other police officer or talked to their next. He looked at them but there were just too many of them so Sherlock concentrate on the body on the floor.

While deducing and collecting evidence he heard Donavan talking to Anderson the new forensic who wasn't happy about Lestrade hushing him away from the body. He hadn't talked to the new guy. He waits most times until other people told them all the bad things he did so he mustn't do it.

A bit distracted he didn't notice that he followed the evidence closer to the crowed. There was a single drop of blood on the ground and while looking at the blood he saws the legs of the people in the corner of his eyes and found another drop of blood at one of their trousers.

Sherlock didn't look up, the blood on the trousers could only got their as it drops down the used knife, no passion by would have coursed it. He needs Lestrade; Sherlock turns to call him but a sudden movement behind him changed the whole situation.

People cried out, police officer turn to answer Lestrade´s call and the suspect holds a knife under Sherlock´s chin. Sherlock froze before happens what was unavoidable as the warm skin of the man touched his.

It took only a few seconds until the knife fall to the ground followed by the man himself, dead. Sherlock just stands their looking down at the second body in the underground station. He had killed again. The second human being who´s life he had taken without intention. Sherlock sunk down on his knees not caring about the tears that run down his face. He didn't hear Lestrade shouting over the panicking crowed to his police officer to get everyone out and he didn't see a thing except for the man beside him. A man he had killed.

"Sherlock?" Lestrade´s voice shacks a bit. Sherlock looks up and sees sadness in his eyes. Everyone else was gone. The only living people were the two of them. Four body´s two alive and two dead.

"Are you alight? Did he hurt you?" Sherlock didn't understand the question? Hurt him? He was the one that had hurt someone. No killed. With his twenty-three years he had already killed two people and countless animals. The animals wasn't really his fault, the doctors in the lab had brought them in to test his ability's.

Lestrade came closer, slowly. "Stay away from me." Sherlock shouts out of reflex. He knows Lestrade keeps his distance to make him feel safe but it won´t help him now.

He touched with his gloved hand the arm of the dead man next to him, looking for a pulse. He knows it was unnecessary but he needed to know.

"I´m sorry. I didn't want that to happen. I´m sorry. I´m sorry. I´m sorry. I´m sorry." He couldn't stop. Tear streams wetting his face, clothes and the ground under him. He didn't like the feeling of his 'gift' his curse. He hates it. He hates the feeling of life running through his veins disappearing into nothingness. It not like he would take the life and stay forever young of something like that. The life he takes just vanished.

Sherlock didn't notice Lestrade speaking to him anymore, not as his brother is called or that time passes. Sherlock waited to wake up from this nightmare. It happened, the one thing he tried to avoid his whole life.

"Sherlock. Can you look at me?" A voice came into his shocked mind, not Lestrade´s, Mycroft´s.

"We could sedate him to get him home." That was Lestrade. Sherlock moved slowly to find the both an.

"No, he is able to walk home himself, right Sherlock." Mycroft again and he was right. He didn't want to be sedated. So Sherlock looked directly into Mycroft´s worried eyes. Who smiled tightly as he sees Sherlock´s hesitating movement.

"Let´s get you home." Sherlock tries to get up, he needed more than one try but Lestrade and Mycroft didn't help him or came closer. They knew he would have freaked out. In between the two Sherlock was lead out of the station, into a waiting black car and brought home without making eye contact with another living being.

Sherlock wasn't charged for the accidently kill. It was counted as self-defense. Sherlock suspected that Mycroft had his hand in it but he didn't cared. It took nearly a month for Sherlock to get out of his room again and another until he was able to walk down the street without fear to hurt someone. Three month after the incident Lestrade called for him again. He had needed a bit time to convince the other police officer to work with him again. At the crime scene there was no one that came closer than ten meters except Lestrade and he keeps his distance too. Sherlock´s invisible wall had increased since the last time on a crime scene. But he continued to consult for the police and living with his brother.

About a year later Sherlock wanted to change something so he told Mycroft he wanted his own flat. Mycroft was okay with the idea; Sherlock starts to look for a flat while working on his own little cases and the ones the police offer him.

The door was open and an angry Sherlock, followed by a far angrier Lestrade stormed into the flat. It was late and Mycroft sat on his desk in the living room reading through a few documents for the next day. He wasn't sure what happened but it must be bad when it angers the calm detective like that.

"What happened?" Both man looked at him. Sherlock opens his mouth but was cut by Lestrade.

"Your idiot of brother here wants to die." Lestrade nearly shouts. "And I don't mean the reckless stand he did today, it wasn't the first time he risk his life but I ask him and you know I can sense lies. He actually wants to die, best on one of my cases, so that I will feel guilty for the rest of my life." The last words where nearly shouted at Sherlock who starts to lose his own anger and starts to show regret.

"It´s not your life." Came from Sherlock but that were definitive the wrong words to calm down the detective.

"NO, it´s not only mine. But don't you think one second that no one will cry when you are gone. I would miss you and your brother. With your work you help people, people who are thankful for it. You can´t just get yourself killed. Do you understand?" Yes, Sherlock understood but he didn't want to hurt anybody else.

"I found a flat for you. Or better a client of yours has one and offers you a special discount. But I think you will need a flatmate." Both Sherlock and Lestrade looked at him as if he would wear a clowns costume and sing a love song for the queen.

"Did you hear what I just told you?" Lestrade was the first who recovered. "Your brother got himself nearly shot on purpose today."

"Yes, I could hear you but I don't think that's the problem. Sherlock needs to have his own space and take responsible for his life. I think living in his own flat will be good and with a flatmate he will have someone to share the rent." Mycroft sounds very positive about that.

"Who would like to have me as a flatmate?" Sherlock didn't sound happy. But Lestrade could slowly understand what Mycroft intents to do.

"When you found one you can move in." Discussion was over. Sherlock had a new destination, Lestrade was happy that Sherlock was distracted and Mycroft had ended another conflict today. No one needs to know about the two wars he had prevented before they happen by stopping a fight between a few politicians.


	4. The flatmate

**Chapter 4: The flatmate**

Live goes on and nothing changed until the day an ex-army doctor walks into the lab of St. Bart's were Sherlock is working at the same time. Following Mike into the room Sherlock´s eyes travel over the small man. He reads the man and his past but something isn't right, something that Sherlock can´t name is special about that man. He wished he had Donavan´s ability or no ability at all. But hers would have been very useful now and before, in many situations where he had to trust his own deduction with his life and the life of others.

The man has blond hair and a walking stick he clearly doesn't need, his eyes are blue with a spark that tells his plan for the evening a lie. For a passing person the man looked a bit depressed, his choice of clothes, the winkles on his face and the thought of the gun he definitive owned.

Mike keeps his distance, he doesn't know about Sherlock´s ability, not really but he knows to keep away and the table between them is a good way. The stranger stayed at the other end of the room far enough that he can continue his work.

"Mike can I borrow your phone?" Sherlock ask without looking up from the microscope.

"Sorry, it´s in my coat."

"Use mine." Sherlock looks up, surprised. The stranger had come closer without him noticing. He was dangerous close but Sherlock wore his gloves like always and no British man would touch someone he only knows for three seconds.

Carful to touch nothing not even with his gloved hands (out of happed) he takes the phone and ignores the strangers look on the black leader gloves. He doesn't talk about his ability, it wouldn't help. People are stupid and forget. One of the reasons he made them hate him. You don't come close to someone you don't like. The invisible wall between him and the world it made of steel and high as the sky.

The stranger was Mike´s idea of a Flatmate and after a nice talking (who he told the stranger, no John Watson everything about his career and his brother to scare him away) he ends with running out with his name and the address of the flat. He wasn't sure that having a flatmate would be a good idea at all.

* * *

John Watson felt wrong and unbelievable right at the same time. Waiting for the meeting on the next evening, Sherlock couldn't help but think about the man constantly. He still can´t explain what caught his eyes. Why the man was special and why he was the only one he would want to live with.

Would Sherlock believe in fate or things like that he might get an explanation for the feeling in his soul that says the army doctor is the right one. But Sherlock doesn't believe in that kind of thinks, he believes in logic and facts and the reason he is alone and would stay that way his whole life. Because even if he would find someone. Without a loving tough it would be unbearable to like someone. He sees it every time his brother is a bit emotional. He wants to hug him or stoke his hair. Normal things a big brother would do and he never could.

* * *

As John arrived the next day at the flat, after he avoided a hug from Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock took his maybe flatmate to a crime scene. For the first time since he can remember he got praises. A praise surprisingly spoken by John who was surprised himself.

Sherlock shocked and happy continued with his normal deduction speed speech and earns another praise.

John´s words are warm and honest and yes he wants him as his flatmate whatever he needs to do for that but first he needs to catch a series killer. No one was wondering where the suitcase was? Sometimes he thinks he is the only one with a brain.

* * *

John walked down the staircase, slowly and a bit in pain because of his leg. His new flatmate mad in every way to describe him just run out of the building shouting 'pink'. Not a normal evening John had hoped for with tea and the newspaper but filled with excitement and amazement.

Sherlock, the name alone was special as is the whole man. The moment John caught his eyes and the stormy sea of a galaxies in it; he was lost for the man. He felt right.

It didn't take long to notice Sherlock keeps distance to everyone around him. He didn't let the friendly housekeeper … wait no landlady hug him. He didn't shake hands or sits next to him in the cab, a seat was between them.

Outside the house he meets again the Sergeant that had insulted Sherlock the second she had seen him. Her eyes are fixed on him, again. Like as he walked in behind Sherlock.

"You have a strange gift." She says. Apparently hers is to read the abilities of other people. Useful, if you use it probably.

"It´s not strange, it´s just a bit rare." John didn't want a fight less someone that tells everybody about his ability.

"I don't mean it like that. I have seen something similar like yours before. It´s strange because I can´t read it probably but it doesn't frighten me like the gift from the other one." John wasn't sure what she means and he doesn't want to know it. "You should stay away from him. He is dangerous."

Like me? John thought but he didn't say it out load. He wouldn't mention that he was a soldier, someone who killed people for a living.

Walking away ignoring her warning but he wasn't done for the evening with exciting meetings. What he had written on his blog 'nothing ever happened to me' was erased after one evening with Sherlock Holmes. He didn't wonder anymore about the phones, cameras and the black car that brought him to a very dangerous looking person who claimed to worry about Sherlock.

* * *

People, in this case the owner of a restaurant think he and John are on a date. A date, ha. Sherlock was never on a date before and he will never be. John even tries to tell Angelo that it is in fact no date. But the man didn't listen to him for a second. Prove was the candle they got for their date on the table.

Sherlock was thinking he needs something that keeps John on arm's length but doesn't chase him away as a flatmate. Because that is what he is. Sherlock´s only option for a flatmate. The man was perfect. Except the fact that he came closer to Sherlock, nearly too close.

…"So? Do you have a girl-friend?" Sherlock must have missed something, how did John end up with that topic.

"No. Not really my area." Should he tell John?

"Or a boy-friend, what´s fine by the way." Oh god is he flirting? Sherlock needs an excuse. One that doesn't offend John.

"John, I ..I´m considering myself married to my work." That should work. But Sherlock saw a small disappointment in John´s eyes and couldn't change it. After the unsuccessful chase was the conversation forgotten.

* * *

"Because you are an idiot." John wasn't as angry as he should be. He nearly lost his new flatmate after half a day because of the stupidity of a genius. He had agreed to life with the mad man after Angelo had brought him his cane and John understood that this was his place to be. Only to lose it again because Mister brilliant over there tries to prove he is clever and taking the challenge from someone who has nothing to lose.

John decided to keep Sherlock close to prevent thinks like that.

* * *

"Sir?" Sally Donavan greats Lestrade at the door. "The freak locked himself in your office.. We couldn't stop him or enter after he was in." Lestrade listen and didn't comment on the name calling too distracted to the fact that Sherlock was hiding in his office. He should celebrate with John at Baker Street. They have solved a csae. He nods and walks over to his office with the key in his hands. He unlocked the door, enters and closes said door again for same privacy.

Sherlock was in one of the office corners. Sitting on the floor, his knees pulled to his chest hugging them with his arms with his forehead resting on his knees. The picture of a defeated man.

"Sherlock? What happened?" He had to fear the worst with Sherlock's ability and the dangers he faces every day.

"He nearly touched me." Sherlock didn't look up and Lestrade knows who `he´ is. John. John Watson the best Sherlock ever happened in his life was nearly killed because he didn't know about it.

"Tell me from the beginning?" Lestrade ask for two reasons. First to know it and second for Sherlock to concentrate on talking until they found a solution.

"He …he tried to hug me." Okay not good. "And then he had tried to hold my hand or arm as I tried to get away from him and he was so close." The heartbreaking sobbing that came from the corner wasn't anything Lestrade could stop. He knew why he keeps his distance. It would make Sherlock feel worse if he tried to comfort him. He wished he could.

"Okay Sherlock. We will talk to John, alright. I know you like him and he likes you too, he won´t run away when he knows about your gift." Sherlock shakes his head.

"I don't want him to know he will leave me. I will be alone again. I don't want to be alone." Before Lestrade could say something a knock on the door distracted him.

"Wait here a second Sherlock. I will be back in a moment." Lestrade opens the door, steps out of his office and closes the door again to keep Sherlock save from the looks of his colleagues.

* * *

John stands in front of him, sweeting and worried. "Is Sherlock with you?" He tries to have a look into the office. "I think I did something bad. Not sure exactly what went wrong but he run away and I´m worried and Mycroft texted me I should calm down that didn't help me and you are the only one I could think off who Sherlock would go to." The swell of words stops as Lestrade holds up his hands.

"Yes John, he is here. He is not hurt by your action but you can´t touch him." The confused look on John´s face was easy to read. You don't need to be Sherlock Holmes to do that.

"I guess you tried to hug him because you like him, he showed signs that he likes you too and you thought on acting on these signs." John nods and confirmed Lestrade´s assumption. "If you would touch him you would hurt him. You can´t do it and I can´t tell you why. He doesn't want you to know. He likes you don't understand me wrong but the physical accept of liking and showing affection can´t happen with Sherlock. Please accept that." John seems to understand that the only thing he did wrong was trying to touch.

"Is he alright in there?" John´s head nods at Lestrade´s office behind them.

"He will be. Wait here a few minutes I will send him out and you two can go home together. Be aware that he will keep more distance to you in the next few days or weeks. It is always a bit of a fight to let people closer again." Without waiting for an answer Lestrade disappears in his office to sort out Sherlock.

It didn't take much after he had explained to the still on the floor sitting detective that John wouldn't try to touch him anymore but also doesn't know the reason and that he would stay. The tear streams are cleaned away with a few tissues and Sherlock meet John outside. They both walk home and John didn't dare to walk closer to Sherlock even when the distance is twice the normal distance they walk.


	5. Touched

**Chapter 5: Touched**

The game. That was all Sherlock had thought about as it had begun. In one of his low points when he couldn't find an answer to his many questions and boredom starts to chew at his sanity he was glade that someone appears and saved him from it. He had promise to be careful. He had found someone he liked and doesn't try to chase him away but the call of 'play with me' was too sweet for him. Ignoring human life and angering John with his ignorance about the lifes was worth it. Not that he doesn't cared but he never shows it and won´t hopefully need to do it. Showing these kinds of feelings lead to understanding and closeness he can´t allow. So he plays and lies about his feelings to keep everyone, even John behind the wall and safe. He likes playing.

The moment John stepped out in the light, through a door by the side of the pool, Sherlock knew that this wasn't a game anymore. Wearing more explosives then necessary to blow up the whole block John´s hands shake slightly. The situation with his friend wearing a bomb was at least a bit better then him thinking he was betrayed by his only friend. That's what John is, Sherlock´s best and only friend. Sherlock wouldn't have survived the thought that he was tricked by someone like that. He who had never a working relationship with someone, who keeps people away to spare them from the danger he provides with his pure existence, he who had felt that John was right the second he saw him was glade that he was right about his friend. At least that was good. The situation was bad but they could work it out. Sherlock and John against the world and the mad psychopath that played the game with Sherlock as his 'fan'.

Sherlock would have accepted a life of boredom if it would mean that his friend stand next to him, without the bomb. But life isn't that easy and it got worse as the man they knew as Jim, from IT walked through another door and had an evil smile on his face. "Hi Sherly, did you like my present for you? Oh I forgot the ribbon. Imagine John with a ribbon around his neck yes Sherly will you do that for me?"

The man´s word sound more than insane. Sherlock wasn't sure they would make it out of here alive. But he would do everything to save John. His friend didn't deserve to die because of him and the stupid game. "What do you want? Your game is boring and I don't like the way you treat John, lets finish it." Sherlock tries to sound more confident as he felt but Jim and John saw his insecurity.

"Don't be like that Sherly. I need you; I want you to join me. I like the gift you have and I can think of a few ways to use it." That was the first moment Sherlock searched for John´s eyes. He was too concentrate at the psychopath before then to think about his 'gift' and that John didn't know about it. John will leave, if he survives this, he will leave because who wants to live with a killer.

"Don't know what you are talking about. I don't have a gift you could use and even if I have one I wouldn't join you or help you." Don't let John find out. Don't let John find out. I can´t lose him. I need him. Please don't say it in front of him.

Sherlock´s thoughts were visible for everyone, the panic, the fear and the pleading. John couldn't understand what was wrong but he keeps his mouth shut. No words would help Sherlock right now.

"Oh Sherly that isn't nice, lying is such a bad habit. How about a demonstration. Over there is a box, I´m sure you have seen it already. I want you to take the box and go back to the point you are standing right now." As Sherlock starts to refuse Jim moves his hand. "Or you can start iron your funeral suit because John Watson won´t leave this place alive." To prove his point red laser points appear on John´s chest. Jim´s moving hand must have being a signal for the sniper.

Sherlock lowers the gun he holds in his hand, walks over to the box and carries it back to the place he had stand a minute ago. "What now?" Sherlock would do whatever it takes to keep John safe.

"Sit down, open the box and take out what is in it." Sherlock hates that guy like he had never hated anything else before in his life. He knees down, lays the gun next to him and opens the box. He knew what would happen next, there was no other explanation for the rabbit in the box. Making sure his hands are covered he lifts the rabbit out of his box. Sherlock looks down in the rabbit´s eyes, he felt sorry for what he was sure would follow.

"Now Sherly be my little doll and take of one of your gloves." Sherlock swallowed down the bile that was coming up, while John looked a bit confused. He knows there is a reason for Sherlock never touching anything but what kind of gift would that criminal be interested in and why do they need a rabbit.

"I think you know what I want you to do next. Touch the rabbit and show me that you are able to do what I heard of." Sherlock felt tears in his eyes and he wasn't ashamed that his voice trembled as he whispers a 'sorry' in the rabbits ears.

Sherlock couldn't look at John or Jim or the rabbit. His uncovered hand touches softly the rabbits back, Sherlock closes his eyes and let his tears fell. They are justified for what he is doing.

John watches Sherlock and is shocked as he sees the first tear, he needed another second to understand what was happening but as the rabbit gets unnatural still he understands Sherlock´s gift imminently, death.

Jim sees the last bit of light vanish out of the animal eyes and is more than happy that the information he got are true. It is a rare gift and a strong one as well. A gift that belongs in a facility to keep it hidden. It is very hard to get people with such powerful gifts out of there. Most of them are not able to live a normal life or follow simple instruction. Finding one outside is rarer as the gift itself.

Sherlock open his eyes and looks down on the lifeless body of the innocent creature he had killed a second ago. He felt worse than the time the criminal attack and touched him in the process. Sherlock was in danger at that time. You could count it as self-defense or accident because Sherlock didn't even want to defend himself but this, this was just killing. He despite his gift and John saw him kill that innocent creature.

Sherlock was furious, that was more than anger or hate. This person who made him kill again was the one that should die. He picks up the gun and between blinking the tears away he points it at his enemy. "What was the point of it?" Sherlock was shouting by now. "Do you really think I will come with you after that?" Red laser points appear on Sherlock and John´s breathe stock. "I would die before I come with you." To prove his point he lifts the gun further at his head. "The world is better without me anyway."

"Okay Sherlock don´t rush things we will get out of here don't do that." John spoke before he could stop himself. He got all the attention Sherlock´s and the one from the psychopath.

"Take the bomb off him." Sherlock shouts and to their surprise Jim pressed a bottom on his phone.

"You can take it off Jonny boy." John looked a bit disbelieving but takes of the bomb west. Nothing happens. He let it on the floor and steps closer to Sherlock so that the bomb is as close to John as to Jim before he talks again. "Not one step more Jonny boy. We don't want Sherly to get nervous."

"Now Sherly how about you put down that nasty gun in your hand." Sherlock shakes his head and more tears fell down and wet the ground.

The gun in his hand felt amazingly steady and Sherlock really plays with the thought to pull the trigger. What would be the worst that could happen? John could die but he doesn't thing Jim would let him leave anyway. He will always be the pressure point. John could also be used to make him kill more living creature. The cold metal in his hand was different. He rarely touched something else than his gloves. He could kill himself right now but then would John be alone with that man and Jim would get away with what he did.

Suddenly Sherlock´s eyes fell on the bomb. The bomb with enough explosive to kill all of them. Making his decision, the last he will ever do in this life. It will be another kill but that's how it is. He started his life by killing his mother. Why shouldn't he end it with the murder on an enemy and his only friend. Slowly Sherlock moved the gun away from his head but the other two could see that he hadn't changed his mind about killing himself only to take them with him.

"Let´s talk about it Sherly. How about I leave you for a while and you can think about my offer you don't have to rush things." Jim didn't sound too sure about the situation what made John finds his own plan to end the situation. Sherlock wasn't looking at him and John ran. He ran at Sherlock, the sniper didn't react and he could do what he meant to do. Protect his friend from his own nightmare.

John jumped at the surprised Sherlock, who loses the ground under his feet and fell backwards into the pool. While they fall John takes the gun out of Sherlock´s hand, aimed at the bomb and pulls the trigger. The bomb explodes and swallows the surprised Jim in its flames. John and Sherlock hit the surface and sink down illuminated by the light of the explosion.

Sherlock didn't really think about taking a deep breath before hitting the water. The only thing that stayed on his mind was the fact that he had killed his best friend right now. John had touched him. Touched his hand as he took the gun. John would be dead when he opens his eyes again. He doesn't want that so he let them close, doesn't keep the air in his lungs to drown in the pool like he deserves it. The murder should die. Darkness swallows his mind; he doesn't fight and vanish into nothingness.


	6. Hope

**Chapter 6: Hope**

The darkness was comforting; he wasn't used to this blessing of nothingness. There were always thoughts, that floating around in his mind but not now. It was silent, the voices and noises had stopped and he was very thankful for that. No drug or danger, not a case or anything else has ever left behind this kind of silence.

Sherlock couldn't remember how he had ended here and he didn't want to know it. It was good to be here and he would stay. Whatever waits on the other side wasn't that important. No one was important enough to leave this place. Alone is what he has. Alone protects him.

"What is with me? Will you let me behind?"

That voice was new and as he turns to find a figure, covered in light. Sherlock wasn't able to see the person´s face but the voice was strangely familiar. "Who are you and what are you doing in my mind?"

"Don't you think that is the wrong question? The better one is what are you doing here."

The figure made out of light came closer. "I´m here because I like it here and it is saver for everyone, without me walking around and killing innocent people."

"You think so? What about me? I will be lonely without you. You are my other half without you I will be lost."

Sherlock watched the figure closer who was this person who made it sound as if he or she was important to him? "Who are you?" He asks again but the person next to him wasn't getting any clearer.

"You are the genius, figure it out."

He was mocking him and now Sherlock was sure it was a he. The person does know him. Without any warning signs the figure takes his hand. "Don't touch me." Sherlock tries to pull away but he hasn't the strength to do so. His hand was held firm between the warm fingers of his companion in the darkness.

His hand got warm, warm like he had never felt it before. It was nice and it looks like he couldn't kill with his touch in his mind.

"Come back to me, I´m waiting for you."

The suddenly emotional loaded voice sting in Sherlock´s heart. The owner of this voice was important but it hurt to think about this person. Because this person is gone, gone because of him. He is alone again and that was good, no one left to get hurt. The figure had disappeared but the warmth stayed his hand was warm and when he had to give this emotion a name he would say he felt loved. The touch that had connected him with the figure gave him love.

* * *

It didn't take long for Sherlock to understand that his consciousness came back but he didn't want to wake up slowly finding out that he would be alone, without his only friend. What concerns him the most was that the feeling the light figure let behind, the warmth doesn't disappears. His hand was still warm more than warm. He had never felt something like this before but he guesses that that must be the feeling of holding hand with someone. Sherlock would have smiled sadly when he was awake. He would never be able to confirm this thought. But suddenly he realized that the feeling in his hand was real, in the outside world. Someone didn't know about his gift and touches him.

Sherlock pulls himself out of his self-chosen darkness and uses every bit of strength that was there to pull his limps away from the person that was with him in this room. He was disorientated and had to close his eyes. There could be more people in the room without his knowledge he needs them to stay away. "Stay away. Don't touch me or I will hurt you." His voice sounds week in his ears and he couldn't hear the answer of the person next to him.

After what felt like hours he become aware that someone was talking to him, in a soothing voice. The voice that sounded like the one of the person in his mind. Before he opens his eyes he finally notices the fanatic alarm sound on his left side. His brain starts to work probably again. Hospital, not good he needs to go way so no one gets hurt.

"Sherlock can you look at me. You are safe, we are safe. We survived and you didn't hurt anyone." That was John´s voice, was it the one in his head or the real one. But it couldn't be the real one. That one he had killed. "Sherlock open your eyes it´s me." It couldn't hurt more when he opens his eyes, the reality was John was gone and when he opens his eyes the illusion of his voice should vanish as well. But the blurry version of his vision doesn't help; Sherlock had to rub his arm over his eyes to wipe away most of the tear he hadn't notice to finally see. And there he was his friend the person he cares most in the world looks with worried eyes at him. John, not the figure made out of light in his mind or an illusion, no the real and living John Watson.

"Why are you not dead?" Not the best way to start a conversation but it was the only question that came to his mind that sounded like it would give him an answer.

"Your ability has no effects on me because I´m your counterpart." That sounded easy but Sherlock had never heard before of something like that. What is when John was lying and he touches him and did John really came into contact with his hand as he took the gun? Did he hold his hand? "Sherlock take my hand I can prove it." Sherlock was only able to shake his head and move further away from his friend, his crazy and reckless friend. He wouldn't hurt him or better kill just to prove he is right. "Please you can trust me Sherlock. I have held your hands since 15 hours and nothing happened, you can trust me I will not get hurt." John´s eyes told him that it was the truth.

Sherlock knows he could trust John, if he couldn't trust his words whom could he trust then. Slowly Sherlock pulls out his hand that he had kept hidden close to his body to reach for the offered hand John holds out for him.

The moment they would touch came closer and he stops. What if … But Sherlock´s thoughts couldn't go further because John wraps his hand around Sherlock´s. First Sherlock wanted to pull way but the warm feeling came back, it was totally different from the one he has when he touches something living. That feeling is always cold. John is warm, he lives and is warm.

"I didn't know human skin could be so …warm." Amazed and with new tears in his eyes Sherlock´s long, slim finger slightly caress over John´s presented hand. He didn't mind that John had taken the last step to close the gap between them he was happy about it.

"We belong to each other our gifts have no effect on the other as it seems." John smiled now.

"When I´m death than you are life?" A bit obviously but he needed to ask and pointed out at the same time, just to be sure. John nods and as the emotion he had kept inside of him start to drown him Sherlock is pulled into a tight hug. The first hug in his life. A living, breathing creature holds him and he felt the warm of life. Sherlock let it all out and cries like never before in his life.

The loneliness, the hurt and pain. The fear of hurting and killing that all was gone. John would be there for him hold him and be able to touch without getting hurt. Alone is not what will protect him from now on. His dear friend will protect his heart, his soul and keep him safe. He had found his place and was able to show it as he lays his arms around John to hug him back.

* * *

The blast of the explosion nearly knocked him out completely. Dizziness and disorientation coursed him to sink down on the pool with the already unconscious body of his friend. Sherlock hadn't fought the water and hadn't taken a deep breath like John before they had entered the water. John pulls Sherlock closer to his body and pushed them with his feet on the ground up to the surface. He needs Sherlock out of here and breath before it's too late.

Breaking through the surface offers a picture of distraction. The side of the pool where the bomb exploded was nothing more than a hole, everywhere laid concrete from the walls and the celling had come down. Half of the pool water was gone but John still had to swim to the other side where still was a leader to climb out of the pool.

This was probable the first time John thought that it was a good thing Sherlock wasn't eating as much as he should. The thin body was in his arms and he could still climb up without problems. He carries Sherlock to the ground feels for his pulse and checked if his friend was still breathing. Both was a bit off but he was still alive he could feel the energy run through his body, weak but still there. Sherlock couldn't have swallowed much water he must have stop breathing or whatever he had trained his transport to do so in such a case.

John could hear the sirens and wasn't surprised to find Lestrade to be one of the first that made his way to them. Sherlock´s head rested on his lap and he stroke the wet mop of curls with one hand to give a bit of comfort. He had seen Sherlock´s eyes. Eyes that hat told him Sherlock was ready to die, that he had enough. As soon as Sherlock wakes up he would make sure to erase that feeling in his friend´s heart. Now that he knows what his friend had hidden all the time it would be much easier to tell him about his 'gift'. He had never really called it a gift after he had learned the truth behind it. It was a curse until today. Because his gift was now really a gift again. It let him touch Sherlock without getting hurt and hurt him in the process.

"John?" John looked up and sees a worried Lestrade coming closer. The DI eyed his fingers that softly touching Sherlock´s skin. "Is he …"

"No Greg he is alive just unconsciousness." He knows why Lestrade asks because dead people´s ability disappears. "It´s fine Greg. I can touch him. His gift can't hurt me. I´m his …" Yes what was he; he could see that their gifts were the exact opposites but what were they now?

"We need an ambulance." John looked up and sees Lestrade talking on the phone. After that John just keep looking at Sherlock and let the paramedic take them to the hospital. They got separated for a minute as they had to check Sherlock for head injuries and John got his burn marks treated that he didn't notice until his doctor pointed them out. He had also a gush on his head and his right shoulder must be hit by something hart like a piece of the celling. The let him right back to Sherlock when they were finished and he was allowed to hold his friend´s hand. John spoke to him in a low voice nearly whispers promises and ask for him to wake up. To come back to him.

* * *

"Tell me you were at least a bit worried about your brother." Lestrade sounds upset, still shaken about the explosion and Sherlock in the hospital. The man was a true friend to his brother.

"I was worried but I knew he wouldn't die." Did he said too much or was it okay if he relived his secret to someone for the first time in his life.

"What do you mean with 'you knew'? Can you see the future?" The man that could tell when someone lies asks the one question he had never answered truthfully.

"No Greg, I can't see the future but I can see the time a human being has left on this planet. I see the exact date and time when someone has to die. My brother´s time hasn't come jet. He will die together with the only person who is able to give him everything he deserves." They had arrived at the door to Sherlock´s room and could watch John hug a crying mess of Sherlock. Stoking his hair and back, wiping away tears from Sherlock´s cheek without anything between their skin. That was the only thing he had never been able to give his brother. The one thing he needed most. Physical affection and love. But now he has John and the ex-army doctor would do everything for his brother to make him happy and felt loved.

"So death runs in the family." Greg´s pull him out of his mind. The first person who had made the connection about his family.

"You could say that. Our mother could see the circumstances a person would die when she touched someone, my cousin could tell people literally to die with one word. They took away his voice in one of the facilities, said it is too dangerous." Mycroft had never told anyone about it not even Sherlock.

"Never knew abilities are related in a family and why do you tell me that suddenly I never heard about you having a gift." Lestrade didn't look at him he was watching Sherlock.

"First of all Greg, I´m one of the most powerful man in this country, second you could tell when I lie and third you are a friend, why should I lie to you." Greg separated his eyes from Sherlock and looked at him. "Gifts are related in the simplest way. My family has death as a connection point. I guess the one of your family are emotions, you told me you sister could stop every fight by simple letting her emotion overwrite the emotions of the others. A lie is also connected with emotions. You see all the gifts have a connection. Sometimes it's harder to see."

Greg was satisfied with the answer Mycroft had given him. The man loved his brother and was worried in his own way but he had also the knowledge that Sherlock would come home in the evening and the day he would die he wouldn't be alone. He wouldn't ask for his date or Sherlock´s or anyone else's. Mycroft trusted him with a secret and he will treasure it.

* * *

 _AN: This is the end._  
 _Just joking, I have planed at least two other parts, one with Mycroft and the other one with John in the focus._  
 _Hope you enjoyed it._


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